


when you really want love you will find it waiting for you

by meganamber



Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26853007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganamber/pseuds/meganamber
Summary: On the pages of literature in the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookstore are not the only place love can be found.





	when you really want love you will find it waiting for you

**Author's Note:**

> My honeydew, this one's for you. <3

It’s not like this particular place had picked the one spot on earth that the sun shined the brightest or the one street that seemed to be able to reflect every single color known to man. This place, like every other shop on Mercer Street, was paved in red brick; so worn by the years of touchy tourists that, if you ran delicate fingers across its surface, it was almost soft. A nondescript black door, armed with chipped black paint, was nothing if not haggard and uninviting. The place on Mercer Street was almost too ordinary-looking on the outside to be capable of encompassing all that it did.

The summer of 1984 in the city seemed to be leaving quicker than normal, but, though it had yet to rain at all that Thursday, the atmosphere in the city still held on with titan strength to the lingering moisture left by Wednesday’s showers. As per any Thursday, the traffic in New York raged on like normal, splashing polluted runoff water onto the patrons awaiting the arrival of public transport and trying hastily to get to where they need to be as quickly as possible, in disregard of the fact that, in a city like New York, everyone has a place to be.

A pair of the most beat-up and fiercely loyal Nike Air Force 1s you will ever see skipped their way down Mercer Street. Worn by years of walking the same path to school and wherever else they seemed to lead to, they tread their newest and favorite path. A small tree, planted by Mr. Findler on New Years as a “symbol of acceptance,” dubbed Gaea, the Grecian personification of the earth, by the inhabitants of the apartments overlooking the frail piece of greenery, became a marking point of the beginning of pure happiness, unwavering hope.

To see the effervescent sun rise over the green landscape for the first time following years of darkness was equivalent to seeing the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookstore come into view. To stand on its doorstep awaiting entry was to feel as if you were waiting on your acceptance into the golden gates. And to be in the store, to be in the store was indescribable.

An excited, yet still wary hand, twisted the wobbly door handle, opening the creaky door. Revealing a cramped array of floor to ceiling bookshelves and a small, almost a ladder-like, staircase leading to another floor with an identical array of floor to ceiling bookshelves. A skylight in the ceiling washed the whole two floors white. A desk sat to the left of the door, small desk, big enough to fit the cash register and a small space of which to place what one wished to check out. What set this bookstore apart from the rest of the stores on the street was a flag hung sideways on the right wall, near the entrance of the shop. A pride flag made this bookstore a safe haven for men and women who were openly, or hoping to be openly, homosexual. “Gay and Proud?” a sign in the window read, enticing to those who were. The bookshop had a glow of acceptance.

Five minutes early to her evening shift, Megan sat down on the stool behind the counter and placed her rucksack underneath. The clomp of large, familiar shoes sounded down the stairs. She didn’t have to because she knew who she would see, but she looked up, her big, green eyes flitted towards the noise. Anne, a tall, sturdy woman, along with being the shop owner, Anne was an openly gay woman.

“My love, you’re here! How are you today?” Her voice clambered down the stairs the way she did, yet it was warm and inviting and beautiful all the same. Once she reached the bottom of the steps she walked the few steps it took to get to the counter. She stepped around the desk to pet Megan’s blonded hair as she listened.

“Was good, but it’s always better when I get here,” as much as it sounded like she was pandering, it’s how she truly felt.

“My dear, you say that every time,” Anne said with Megan’s face cupped between her strong hands.

“I only tell the truth,” Megan challenged, they both knew how much this store meant to her, but Anne seemed dead set on challenging that notion whenever possible. Anne winked privately at her and followed it by a light kiss on the cheek.

“Well I’m off, don’t be too much trouble, young lady,” Anne grabbed a sweater she had set on the counter and held it in her hands with a book and a small pocketbook and started at the door.

“Bye Anne,” Megan said, small, accompanied by the waggle of a few fingers.

Anne was all but to the door when she turned abruptly, “I almost forgot! Upstairs is a present for you.” With that, she was off.

Megan hopped quickly off the stood and raced up the stairs. Her eyes scanned the area for a new prospect. As she began to make her way around the shelves to look for inconsistencies, she registered the faint sound of the bell that notified her that there was a customer entering. Ignoring it for now, she walked hopefully towards the record player, selfishly hoping that this present would be a new vinyl, and sure enough, when it came into view, there was a light yellow vinyl cover sitting idle on the record player.

This had to have been the best present she had ever received. Megan spent her joint shifts with Anne talking about the wonders of Fleetwood Mac and how she would give anything to catch a glimpse of Stevie Nicks in the flesh. However, she had only known of Fleetwood Mac what played on the radio, but she loved them enough that it didn’t matter that she only knew a few songs. Whether she knew a few or all the songs she loved them just the same.

Sitting, wrapped in cellophane, was “Rumours” by Fleetwood Mac. Like a spaz, she tore the thin sheet of plastic away and made quick work of taking it out of the packaging and starting it. The simplistic, upbeat chords of the first song sounded in her ears, her grin so wide and toothy her eyes crinkled.

“I love this album,” a stranger sounded from behind her. So quick she almost got whiplash, she turned to face the pretty voice. Somewhere in the haste of receiving the world’s greatest present, she had forgotten the chime of the bell above the door. The stranger was dressed in khaki flairs that laid cleanly over her shiny black boots and a cream sweater draped delicately over her perfect collarbones. The girl had gorgeous long brown hair stopping just above her butt. And plump, plump lips. But most enthralling of all her traits were emerald green eyes piercing their way through the soul of anyone she bestowed her gaze upon.

“Yeah?” she barely managed to croak out, she was still experiencing the aftershock of having the daylights scared out of her, and the breathtaking stranger was not helping. The stranger nodded as she placed the book in her hands atop one of the shelves.

“Yes. Dance with me.” the stranger’s deadly smirk revealed a dimple nestled in one of her cheeks. With a vague sound of agreeance, Megan’s arms were all of a sudden being lifted around the stranger’s neck, she got the queue to keep her arms there and felt the stranger’s hands leave her wrists and find a home on her hips. With the pickup of the chorus, the stranger guided Megan’s hips to align with the way her’s had been swaying so effortlessly in time with the music. Smiling as wide as she could, she felt the music take control of her body, she became bold. She slid her fingers through the hair of the stranger, which only brought the girls closer together. With every new beat, they seemed to grow together in the way their hips moved.

Then the song stopped for a few seconds and became a familiar song. This change from an upbeat song to a smoother, more sensual song invited the stranger to wrap her arms fully around her lower back and rested their foreheads together; bringing the girls together as they swayed.

As if all the air had been sucked from the room, the stranger pulled away and the song changed. Do-eyed and dazed, Megan staired as the girl walked away in tempo to the beat of the music towards the book she had left on the shelf. Feeling a rush of heat flood her cheeks, Megan made her way downstairs, avoiding the one step that was always doomed to make her trip, and headed for her place at the stool behind the register.

Only a few moments later the girl made her way down the steps, much more efficiently than the way that Anne stomps down them, and more gracefully than the way that Megan had just flown down them.

“I have more records like that at home,” she said once she arrived at the counter, another book nestled in between the previous one and the palm of her hand. Not knowing what to say, Megan just stared, waiting for a follow-up or better, an introduction perhaps.

Almost as if she read her mind, “Oh, I didn’t even introduce myself,” she said as she leaned casually with one hip on the counter, “I’m Graciela, but my friends call me Gracie.” Followed by a subtle wink, a stark difference in meaning to the one Megan had received just minutes before.

“Graciela is really beautiful, I’d like to call you that,” she uttered, flushed, acknowledging that she had lost control of the words leaving her lips entirely.

“Thanks. Now, what’s your name, sweet pea?” She was so effortlessly smooth and it was like the words dripped from her mouth with unwitting candor and charm.

“Megan. I’m Megan,” the girl stuttered out.

“Well, Megan, I’ve got plenty of records, just like that one upstairs, back at my place,”

“I’m working,”

Her responding laugh was brilliant and giggly, “I know that. I’ll stay and talk with you until it’s time for you to close. Then, I’ll take you to mine and put some records on.”

. . .

So that was what they did, that Thursday night. Graciela waited, not so patiently, for Megan to finish her shift. They talked about everything they could without turning blue in the face and Graciela complained minimally. They talked about how Graciela had finished High School and was working at a radio station while taking some classes at the local community college with hopes of being a radio DJ. They talked about how Megan was finishing her last year of high school and working at the Oscar Wilde Memorial Bookstore because she loved nothing more on this planet than Oscar Wilde. Despite the reputation for the occupants of the bookstore, they danced around their respective sexualities. 

After Megan had closed up the shop, they began their walk to Graciela’s apartment. They continued to talk the entire time they strolled down the city street. They unspokenly ignored every primal urge and just stuck to platonic friendship gestures. Every time their hands brushed they would pull away and giggle, just to ignore it again and return back to the conversation.

Once they got to Graciela’s small apartment building, Megan noticed that, of the square footage, it seemed as if the floor was made of boxes of records. In a b-line, Graciela picks up a white sleeve to reveal a Fleetwood Mac Greatest Hits Vinyl. 

. . .

From then on, the girls become inseparable. The plan they had established the first night they met becoming routine. However, what was not routine was the butterflies that began to become overwhelming every time Graciela smiled or laughed or gave Megan a hug or a cuddle on the couch. But Graciela was Megan’s best friend, the person she wanted to do everything with, she wouldn’t ruin that relationship for the world. 

. . .

Months later, they laid under the stars on the roof of the bookstore. A sudden moment of clarity dawned on Megan as she laid on the roof of what she thought to be the love of her life. How wrong she was. “We’re all in the gutter,” she breathed.

“What?” Graciela turned her head to watch Megan’s profile.

“Y’know one time Oscar Wilde once said we are all in the gutter,” Megan turned, finally, to look away from the sky.

“Why would he-”

“He once said we’re all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars. Up until this very moment, I thought that he had uncovered some other level to the stars that maybe only Plato or Socrates could also unearth. And that to him the stars were a trope for his genius for his intellectual accomplishment. He was a self-proclaimed genius and I was so naive to think that someone as great as he, would literally be talking about the stars.” 

“What changed your mind?” Pause.

“You.” 

“Me? How did I? I don’t know,” Not wanting to make eye contact, Graciela looked away.

Megan sat up quickly and turned to face where Graciela was still laying, “I’ve been looking at it all wrong, the stars aren’t something to be discovered, the answer as to what the stars are isn’t universal. The stars look different to every person lucky enough to see them. But to be one of the ones really looking at the stars as opposed to being the one in the gutter is to see the stars for what they’re worth.”

“Your stars, what are they?” Graciela asked finally sitting up facing Megan as well as she could with how the two had been arranged on the blanket with the intent of stargazing.

“I used to think that literature was what would be mine forever, that this bookstore, the way it accepts the people who pass through its doors the way they are, that that would be enough for me. That this bookstore was my stars. It’s not, it can’t be. I’ve realized now, as scary and as unforgiving as it may be, my stars are you.” 

“Megan-”

“Graciela, it’s you who revealed to me that there is more beyond any text, any piece of literature. You revealed the stars, in all their glory to me and I’m eternally indebted to you.”

Graciela looked expectantly at her, encouraging the words from her lips.

“I’m in love with you.” Before she even had time to process all that she just confessed. A delicate, lingering kiss was placed on her lips. When she opened her eyes she was met with brilliant green staring back at her, bright in the night sky. Graciela, with both hands placed on Megan’s cheeks, rested their foreheads together.

“I love you. God, I love you, too”


End file.
